One Step Closer
by Chiara Alice Vargas
Summary: "I have loved you for a thousand years/I'll love you for a thousand more." Stubborn Alfred wants a house for him and Arthur to live in. It's something they've been wanting for years. But Alfred is sick with tuberculosis and he doesn't have much money left. He neglects his health and in return is a terrible fate for both of them. USUK, AU. Based on the song "A Thousand Years".
1. Chapter 1

**One Step Closer  
By Chiara Alice Vargas**

**A USUK fanfic;**_ one-shot with epilogue_  
**Rated T **_(just to be safe)_  
**Warning:**_ Nope, not a happy ending. AU._

_Based on the song "A Thousand Years" by Christina Perri_

* * *

_Heart beats fast_  
_Colours and promises_

"Arthur."

The man named Arthur turned at the voice of his American lover. The American, named Alfred, rarely used his real name instead of those annoying diminutives he insisted on using, like Artie or Art, or something similar.

"What is it, love?"

Alfred was looking at a print-out paper on top of a thin stack, filled with pictures, drawings, words and numbers. "I found something good on the Internet today." He smiled. A genuine, innocent smile.

"What did you find?" Arthur prodded on.

"Look — a house and lot for sale. You know we've been looking for a place since forever!" Alfred grinned childishly, now looking all kinds of excited about the prospect of getting a new house.

They've been together for three good years now, and in all of those three years, the couple had resided in Arthur's flat. It was good, neat and comfortable, but it was too small for the two of them and they have been looking for a new place to live in since forever. Arthur thought they have practically given up a good two years ago, but Alfred did anything but.

Arthur smiled weakly. He didn't want to burst his sweet, kind, loveable Alfred's bubble and rain on his parade, but this thought of a house of their own was now merely a distant dream. The gesture in itself was kind, and it touched him to know that Alfred wanted to make him happy, but he knew more than to pursue such one-sided dreams.

"Alfred... You know we can't afford to buy a new house now, what with all your medical bills and whatnot." It was sad to know that he had given up on it. Years ago, he would have loved to get a place of his own with his beloved, but now, it was something he had pushed to the back of his mind. His partner's health came first and that was that, no matter how much Alfred protested.

"But—"

"No buts, Alfred." Arthur said with a stern face, and Alfred gave up. He sighed.

Alfred placed the papers on the table, and grew silent. After a moment, he spoke up. "I don't care what it takes me, Artie. I'm going to get you that dream house you've always wanted, and that's that. Hero's promise and all."

Arthur could just about feel the tears welling up in his eyes. Why did he have to be in a relationship with the most selfless, sweetest, kindest, most idiotic man on the planet? It wasn't fair for the both of them.

* * *

_How to be brave_  
_How can I love when I'm afraid to fall_  
_But watching you stand alone_  
_All of my doubt suddenly goes away somehow_

Sweat is beading up on his forehead. He coughs again and again, his tissues stained with more and more blood with every cough. Tuberculosis. Slow, torturous killer. More so if left untreated. Arthur was ever so grateful to have been immunised from this. It wouldn't be so good if both of them fell ill.

"Why are you so stubborn..." Arthur sighed with a half-hearted groan. "Why won't you just let them treat it?"

"I told you..." He coughs again. "It's too much money to spend... I can handle this, okay? Treatment or none..."

"You don't have to buy me the bloody house, Alfred! Your health comes first and we both know that!" Arthur practically yelled in exasperation. Why won't he understand? Why is he insisting that he should go buy a house for them, instead of getting his sickness treated? _Silly fool_, Arthur thought bitterly.

"But I want to, and I know how much you want it, Arthur! And I want it as well, for the both of us! I want to make you happy, okay? So please, Arthur, don't worry."

Arthur scoffed lightly with a raised eyebrow. "Worry? How could I possibly worry when you're here, weak and violently coughing out blood every two minutes or so, and let's not forget to mention that you _also_ sometimes pass out or suddenly weaken? Of course I'm damned well worried!" He paused for a moment after his tirade of sarcastic remarks; his sight falling to his lap, lips silent and brows furrowed with thought. "What good is a dream house if you'll die before being able to live there with me, anyway? I don't even care about my stupid dream house fantasies anymore; I'd rather have you alive than dead any day." He quietly said with resolve.

Alfred didn't want to give up. He wants it to go through his way this time, and he doesn't care how he's going to do it. "I love you, Arthur." He smiled, in a false effort to change the subject and lighten things up, even just a bit. "I love you so much, okay, Artie? I'm going to get through this, and..." He paused to cough, a bit more blood spots onto his handkerchief, earning a wince from the Brit. "I'm gonna get through this and we're going to live happily ever after in our dream house." He smiled earnestly towards Arthur, trying his best to hide whatever pain he was feeling in his body at that moment. _Show him you're fine. Show him you're brave and that you won't go down without a fight_., he thought.

Arthur smiled back, looking slightly reassured. He knew it was foolish to even believe in such words; believe in words and promises that are too far-fetched and impossible. But he still did. Believing in Alfred was the only thing he had left. "I love you too, Alfred."

Alfred's going to get that house for Arthur, for the both of them, even if it costs him his life.

_One step closer._

* * *

_Time stands still_  
_Beauty in all she is_

The July afternoon's sunlight makes its way through the window, casting a mild light over Alfred's face. He sleeps soundly now, much to Arthur's relief. He doesn't wake up every so often to bouts of coughing, or to experiences of discomfort. It's what made Arthur think that Alfred was slowly recuperating, that the drugs were working, that Alfred was getting better and soon, he will be all right again. The thought of it relieved him a bit, just a bit, but it was never really enough to put him at ease.

Arthur gulped. A letter from his family from the UK. Scrawled in hurried penmanship: Arthur James Kirkland; along with the address to his and Alfred's shared flat. He recognised the writing as his mother's. Eternally hopeless, his mother was. She could operate a telephone as good as she could work with an oven, which is to say, not that good, if Arthur's skills are anything to judge by. She still relies on letters, and for all Arthur knew, the letter could have been written weeks ago and what was written on it would probably be old news now.

He slowly opened it, careful not to let the sound of the ripping envelope wake Alfred up.

It was sent four days ago.

"_Dear Arthur,_

_Hello, dear. I hope you have been doing well there in America. I will keep this short and sweet for the sake of both of us: Your father has bequeathed the family business to you, Arthur! Isn't that such wonderful news? He deemed you worthy of such responsibility and honour. Surely you are happy about it? Of course you are. I remember when you were a wee little tyke, you would tell everyone that you wanted to take over when you grow up. Well, sweetie, here's your chance! Your father needs you to come back home soon, and fix up the necessary paperwork, get some training done and all that jazz. Soon enough, you will be ready to run the Kirkland family's business and you can move back to England now! He is getting ready for retirement, so you must understand what hurry this is all is! We expect you back here soonest._

_I look forward to seeing you here at home, poppet. I'm so proud of you._

_Love always,_  
_Mum_"

Arthur stared at his letter. No, he didn't understand. Move back? Go to England soon? Inherited his family's business? Sure, years ago he would have jumped at the chance, but things for him were different now! Everything changed when he fell in love with an American who eventually turned practically terminally ill. He glanced at the sleeping man's face again. It was almost angelic in the lighting. Like he was never sick. Like it was all okay, and that nothing really happened and that it was all just a bad dream. It made him look so happy, healthy and just well. It pained Arthur to know that he would have to leave him.

He took a deep breath; he must tell him now.

"Alfred..." He gently shook his arm, rousing the American into a state of consciousness.

* * *

_I will be brave_  
_I will not let anything take away_  
_What's standing in front of me_

He knew what he had to do. He was going to have to make his father give the business to his other brothers. He can't leave Alfred behind. He's not going to let anyone or anything separate them both. As much of an opportunity it was, he loved Alfred more and cared about him more than some duty to his family.

"Are you ready?" Alfred smiled weakly beside him, looking like he was about to burst into tears and beg Arthur to not leave. At most, Arthur had estimated his absence from America for a good three to five months. Such a long time for both of them!

"I'm..." He couldn't even say anything for a moment. "I'm ready..." He finally managed to say. "Please do take care, Alfred. Your brother will take care of you, right? Honestly, I feel so bad leaving you here alone while you're sick from this disease and I just wish I couldn't go, I'm so sorry Alfred, I really am! Please just tell me you will take care of yourself, I can't—" He was interrupted mid-rant by Alfred.

"Shh. It's going to be all right. I know you have to go, so yeah, do your thing and come back soon, okay? I'm gonna be okay, Artie. Promise." Alfred leaned down to kiss him, but after a split second, the moment was gone.

Arthur opened his eyes after the chaste kiss and nodded, looking at Alfred for a fleeting second, as if he was begging for Alfred to just make everything go away, for him to make him stay, for him to just get away from all of this and escape. But no, Alfred can't do that. And a second later, Arthur had bid farewell to his lover and was thrust into the bustling airport crowd, about to board his flight for the UK.

Arthur only hoped that Alfred really was getting better; he hated the thought of leaving Alfred when he was slowly dying.

_Every breath_  
_Every hour has come to this_  
_One step closer_

* * *

_I have died everyday waiting for you_

"Artie!" The Brit was greeted by a rushing, tall, bespectacled American, sprinting up to him the best he could given the airport crowd and his current condition. Three and a half months have passed and needless to say, they have missed each other dearly.

Arthur was hoisted up into the air. Even when Alfred wasn't as strong as before, he could still lift the Englishman. He was quite lightweight, after all. "P-put me down, I know we've missed each other, but is this quite necessary?" Arthur asked, bursting into peals of laughter. His lovely, sweet, precious Alfred. He's still here. He grinned as wide as he could.

He remembered how every day he woke up, how every day felt like a knife stab to his chest. Another day, another hour, another minute, another second and it was one step closer to something, to a terrible fate that might have befallen them. It was dreadful and it worried him, kept him up at the wee hours of the night. He checked up on him every hour over the phone. Even with someone else, his brother, to watch over Alfred for him, it wasn't enough to dispel the constant fretting inside his head. He could never be sure. One moment he was there and the next, he could be gone. The anxiety and constant stress had made him look more haggard and thinner than he used to be, but seeing Alfred again, as all right as he could be even after these months... You could say none of the stress and worries have even taken toll on Arthur.

"Arthur..." Alfred's breathing turned heavy and he needed effort to exhale. The coughing started and at once, Arthur's jovial grin turned into an instant look of absolute terror and worry.

"Are you okay, Alfred?"

"Y-yeah..." More coughing. He covered his mouth with his handkerchief, and tucked it away before Arthur saw the blotches of blood on the soft, blue, embroidered hanky. "Just a sore throat. No need to worry." He cleared his mouth and Arthur looked at him suspiciously. "I missed you, Artie."

"I missed you too, Alfred... Have you been all right recently? Have you been recovering already?" He peered at his face, looking for any signs of pain. But there was none. It was only Alfred. Alfred's happy, smiling, joyful, excited, relieved face. It was just Alfred, his smiling, precious Alfred with no hint of pain, suffering, weakening, fatigue and whatnot whatsoever. Alfred had hidden it well.

"Yeah, I've been getting better recently! Now I could do more stuff on my own without getting tired easily, so I think I'm getting better." He smiled; his hand casually going to his hoodie jacket's pocket, as if checking if something was still there.

"Really...? That's really nice to hear, Alfred..." Arthur smiled and hugged him tightly. "I hope you get better soon."

_Darling don't be afraid I have loved you  
__For a thousand years  
__I'll love you for a thousand more_

He laughed a bit, then. "Come on. Let's go home." Alfred nodded and smiled again and took his partner's hand, walking out of the airport. The ride home was quiet, until Arthur noticed that something was off.

"Alfred, I think you're going the wrong way." Arthur spoke up with a worried tone.

"Hm? No, I'm not. Home's this way. Just wait. I'll show you something new and it will make you scream in joy." He chuckled, grinning broadly and mischievously like a boy up to no good. Arthur could only worry about what Alfred might have done. "Hey, Arthur?"

"Yes?"

"Can you blindfold yourself? Just for a moment? Please?" Alfred turned to him with begging eyes. Arthur had to admit this was quite creepy. First, driving off into the wrong direction, and now a blindfold? "Trust me on this; you're gonna love it."

"A-all right..." Arthur fumbled for his handkerchief for a moment before wrapping it around his head and covering his eyes. His thick brows were closely knit into a frown, wondering what this was all about.

A few more moments later, the vehicle came to an abrupt stop. "Alfred?" Arthur asked, feeling uneasy. "Where are we?"

"You'll see." The corners of Alfred's mouth were practically off his face from how wide he was smiling, but Arthur couldn't really see. Alfred got off his seat, opened Arthur's door for him and gently led him out.

"Okay, are you ready?" He asked him. The Brit nodded.

"One, two, three..." Alfred counted slowly before pulling the blindfold from his eyes, revealing to Arthur a house, with large windows on the front side, a porch with a table and a few chairs, and fairly-new painting. It wasn't his flat. It looked so well-kept and... new. It was new. A new house. Arthur stood there, stunned and wide-eyed with his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, trying to breathe. Utterly speechless, that's what he is.

"Our new house, Artie." Alfred smiled and pecked Arthur's cheek, wrapping his arm around his lover.

"I— Alfred... I don't know what to say. You... _bought this while I was gone_? _Without my consent_? What have I told you about buying the house? You couldn't have been able to afford it..." Arthur wanted to yell at him, to scream, tell Alfred just how upset he was about this, but he couldn't bring himself to do so. He felt worry, fright and disbelief, yet at the same time he felt some kind of elation and that was that he had his dream house after an eternity of waiting and hoping and dreaming, and that he could finally live with Alfred.

But they both knew Alfred couldn't have afforded the house all alone with the little savings he had left; a huge amount decimated by medicine fees and hospital bills.

"B-but you like it, right?" Alfred smiled nervously, suddenly losing confidence with his recent surprise. Arthur's reaction was most unexpected.

Arthur didn't really pay attention. "Alfred... You still have been taking your medicines, right? And getting check-ups and all that?" He asked with a slightly concerned frown.

Alfred's demeanour didn't falter or waver. "Yeah, I have. Why do you ask?"

Arthur had nothing to say to that. Fear rose, made him feel sick in the stomach, made him want to throw up. His stomach churned and he looked at Alfred beseechingly. As if his look was enough for him to cave in and tell him the truth; that he hasn't been taking it at all while he was gone and that he had neglected himself all for the sake of a house. It was all a lie; he knew. Alfred could not be well. No.

He went along, either way. He trusted him with all his heart, and he didn't want to think of such dreadful things. He refused to think about the 'what ifs', shut the mere idea out of his mind.

Alfred had led him into the house, talking animatedly, and he had not really noticed since he was in some kind of trance. When he finally came to, Alfred was making him sit down on a table laden with plates and utensils for two. Alfred told him he'd go and get the food from the kitchen. Arthur nodded.

Alfred's heart was thumping wildly in anticipation. Tonight's the night. He's going to do this. His hand slipped into the inside of his jacket's pocket with a deep breath; his fingers turning the red, velvet box around in the pocket. He was so nervous.

He was getting the food, when his knees suddenly weakened and he collapsed with a thud onto the floor. Food spilled beneath his feet, chicken pieces scattering everywhere and gravy pouring down from the countertop. His head pounded and he found it harder to see clearly, his glasses having fallen off.

Arthur, hearing the commotion, quickly stood up from his seat and rushed to where Alfred was.

_And all along I believed I would find you_  
_Time has brought your heart to me_

"Alfred?! Oh my God, Alfred, sweetie, are you— bloody hell, what the fuck happened?!" Panic showed on his face as he knelt down and grabbed Alfred by the shoulders to look at his face properly. He was sweating profusely, in great pain. Alfred's exterior cracked, all that pretending to be all right proved to be just a façade, a lie, a cover, an act. He was right; Alfred was not okay. Alfred was far from okay. He knew it. It was starting to piece together for him now — he probably stopped his medicines and check-ups, delved into the remaining savings he had and bought him this house, all without his consent, because he knew Arthur would strongly disapprove, get mad, even, if he knew what Alfred wanted to do.

Alfred was dying, and he had compromised to make their hopes and dreams come true. He felt sick, for lack of a better term. He suddenly felt furious towards this house for having Alfred do this just to get it. He never had to get him the bloody house and he told him this time and time again but Alfred was too stubborn to stop pursuing it. Then again, what good would it do to get mad at a house?

He knew Alfred was dying. He feared the worst now.

_I have loved you for a thousand years_  
_I'll love you for a thousand more_

Alfred's hand tensed and weakly tried to lift itself, tried to make its way into Alfred's jacket pocket. His hand slowly slid inside, but he couldn't find the remaining strength in him to grasp the box and pull it out, show to Arthur what it was. Arthur looked at him confusedly. "What is it, Alfred?"

Alfred gave up on getting the box from the pocket. His hand relaxed instead. Arthur's eyes flicked momentarily to the other's pocket, confused about what he was trying to do.

A pair of sapphires met emeralds, half-closed eyelids gazing at Arthur like he was the most beautiful thing in the world, and in Alfred's mind, he would be exactly this and more.

Alfred's lips smiled lightly and parted a bit; his tired voice was trying to say something.

_One step closer..._

"Arthur James Kirkland... Will you marry me...?" That sentence seemed to have exhausted the last of Alfred's energy and spent the last of his breath. His eyes slowly closed and his pulse went still, breathing come to a stop.

Arthur knelt there, clutching onto Alfred like a lifeline. But even then he knew that it was no use. Hot tears spilled out of his eyes, green eyes searching for blues to look into, but he couldn't find any anymore. Dead. That's all Alfred was, then. Stunned, silent, speechless. Then Arthur's lips moved, opened a bit to speak.

_One step closer..._

"Yes, Alfred... I'll marry you."

* * *

**A/N:** Epilogue coming up. Yes, there is still an epilogue. Did I break your hearts yet at this story?


	2. Epilogue

**One Step Closer  
By Chiara Alice Vargas**

**A USUK fanfic; one-shot with epilogue**  
**Rated**** T**_ (just to be safe)_  
**Warning:**_ Nope, not a happy ending. AU._

_Based on the song "A Thousand Years" by Christina Perri_

_**Epilogue**_

* * *

_A year later, on an autumn, November afternoon._

A car pulled up on a cemetery. Neither the car nor the cemetery was very impressive. It wasn't like he could afford to buy something better than what he had, like a better car or a better spot in the cemetery for his fiancé. Well, he was practically his husband now. Sworn devotion, loyalty, fidelity and all. It's not like he'd want to love anyone else, anyway. Alfred was his one and only and nothing could change that. Not even death could break them apart.

Dressed in a large trench coat and black shoes, hands shoved into pockets, Arthur Kirkland was no stranger to the empty cemetery. The sound of his feet stepping on twigs and dried leaves filled the cemetery, the only sound to fill the deafening silence. The cemetery was unkempt, untidy and uncared for. No one really visited the dead here, with the exception of him. Sad thing was, even Alfred wasn't visited much. It was only him and Alfred's brother who bothered. Maybe his parents, once or twice, but it was not something that was so often done to become a routine for them. Shame he could not afford a luxurious burial place. All he could settle for was the public cemetery, the one with the tall, neglected grass and scattered leaves and twigs. But it was better than nothing, right?

He sighed, the overcast dark clouds mirroring his mood. He never was happy when he went here. Not even when something good has happened to him recently, or when it felt like a good day in general. Alfred's tombstone isn't really something that made his good mood stay, if he had one on that occasion.

Ever since Alfred had died last year, Arthur had made it a point to visit him every day, but when every day proved to be difficult for him due to his tight work schedule, he made the visits every other day. Gradually, it decreased to a week, then to every other week, until Arthur just settled for visiting him at least once a month. It never meant that he loved and cared about him less, because he was dead. Maybe he just didn't want to be reminded of the fact that his loved one really is dead. But it never meant he loved him less. If he could have lived in the cemetery, next to the American's grave, he would have. Alfred would have liked that. After all, Alfred was the clingy type.

Lost in his thoughts, he had walked himself on auto-pilot towards Alfred's tombstone. The path he had walked so many times in the past year.

_Alfred Franklin Jones_  
_Born July 4, 1993_  
_Died November 6, 2012_

No one really even bothered to put a message or anything, really, on the slab of rock. Arthur removed his coat, folding it neatly before sitting down so as to not dirty it. Faced with an all-too-familiar stone, he forced a smile. It came out sad, weak and unhappy. Why wouldn't he be? It was his lover's grave, after all. Piles of land, soil, dirt and whatever-there-was in the ground, on top of a casket, encasing his lover's body, trapping him in. He wished he could have him with him forever, skin and bones and all. Not rotting, not fading, not slowly forgotten by others. Just there. But then again, that was something highly absurd and disgusting.

"Alfred... It's nice to see you again." He spoke in a low whisper. He could talk as loudly as he wanted here, really. No one was near enough to hear. "I missed you."

"Do you know what date it is today? The sixth of November. Our anniversary. It's not really an anniversary when we never really did get to walk down the aisle or get married, but it is nice to think of it as such. Could you believe, it's been a year since then?"

He paused, bringing the engagement ring to his face. The simple silver band with two intertwined letter As on the front glistened in the right angle. He smiled — it was quite tacky and yet he liked it. It was simple. Alfred knew him well.

"I really miss you. I wish you could come back, but that's merely wishful thinking. Is there really a heaven, Alfred? I hope it's nice up there. Did it have burgers and video games and comic books like you thought heaven would be like? I hope you weren't disappointed." He chuckled dryly. It was once an inside joke.

"It's been a year since then. You really are an idiot, you know? If you weren't stupid enough, we could have been celebrating another year together instead of doing it this way." He scowled. He had no idea why he was scolding a grave. "I still think you're the most selfless, sweetest, most loving, caring idiot on this planet."

Tears started threatening to spill over Arthur's brilliantly green eyes. "I wish you were back here. Then we could live in the house together. Wasn't that the point of buying one? I might as well not have such a nice house if only I will be occupying it..."

His hand fondly touched the top, a sad, serene expression on his features. "A year already, Alfred. Your death hasn't changed anything for me or for us. It hasn't changed the way I love you so much, Alfred Franklin Jones."

And with that, he abruptly stood walked away with tears beading up on the corners of his eyes.

_I have died every day waiting for you_  
_Darling don't be afraid, I have loved you_  
_For a thousand years_  
_I'll love you for a thousand more._

* * *

**A/N: **Thank God that emotional torture was done. How was it? Please do review and stuff. I'd love to hear your opinions and insights about this one. I had so much inspiration and feels going on while I wrote this. It was originally a CMV plan, but I asked my girlfriend (she's going to play as Alfred in said CMV) if I could make a fanfic based on her idea first and she said yes, also because we could use this as a base and a script or whatever.

I think I'm done internally crying now. Hope you guys liked it! It's one of my longer one-shots. And one of the angsty ones that involve character death. My first character death fic was Arthur dying, but he revived and I think I wrote this because I also wanted to make one of them die for good. Oh my, I am such a mean author. Why do I do this to my babies?

Anyway, that's all. Thanks for reading!


End file.
